


Propagation

by Insecuriosity



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Breeding, Early Hallownest, F/M, Forced Pregnancy, Loss of Identity, Mind Manipulation, Not a pornfic, Unethical Experimentation, population control, pre-game, the pale king is a douche in yet another fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 06:45:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18911680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insecuriosity/pseuds/Insecuriosity
Summary: Hallownest is coming into being far quicker than the Pale King could have dreamed of. Economy, education, philosophy, construction, wealth, royalty – everything is growing at an exponential rate. All is going well… except for the new generation of bugs. Nests are empty. Eggs go unfertilised. Bugs have better things to do than take care of a hundred grubs!The Pale King makes it his next most urgent task to remedy this. No matter the cost.





	Propagation

**Author's Note:**

> ( Zazt'vha is the name for the Pale King in this fic. )

Hallownest was growing faster than Zazt'vha had thought possible. When he had first shed his cumbersome large shell, he had expected to spend the first few months setting up for his plan. Testing his gift on bugs, educating them on the complex structures and rules he wanted to build, nurturing their worship of him…  
In a stroke of luck, none of it had been necessary. His gift took to the minds of bugs as if they had been made for it, and they had fallen over themselves to worship him for it. They obeyed his commands, but were brave enough to speak up when they saw something that Zazt'vha himself didn’t. 

The raining city had already taken shape, and bugs were starting to arrive from far-off places, called by the allure of his gift. Merchants were eager to trade their tent for a termite-made store. Farmers were quintupling their harvest, already domesticating the tiny organisms that were too small to make use of Zazt'vha’s gift.  
Economy, education, philosophy, construction, wealth, royalty – everything was growing at an exponential rate. Everything… except for the new generation. 

Zazt'vha had never thought that reproduction would become an issue. He had observed bugs long before he’d decided to try his hand at ruling them, and he knew how quickly their populations could boom. He had made plans to curb them, should it be necessary, but here he was – looking out over a city with bugs that were simply refusing to make more grubs.  
He should have expected it, really. His gift didn’t work quite as well on young bugs, and many of his new subjects were daunted by the prospect of caring for a brood of young. Most of them would have to take care of at least a dozen children until their minds were developed enough to receive his gift, and apparently they had better things to do. 

Zazt'vha narrowed his eyes, and stared out over the slowly forming city. It was too late in the day for many bugs to be awake, but already there were signs of vendors and deliverybugs making their way through the unhardened streets. 

It would not be long before Hallownest would have to defend itself from challengers. Bugs that would want a share of the wealth with none of the work. Bugs that discovered how much easier it was to steal something than to work for it. Perhaps even kings and queens from far off, hoping to unseat him and take all he had built. 

Zazt'vha let out a long hiss of breath and turned away from the window. It was time to plan. 

-

The King of Hallownest. The Pale light. The bringer of knowledge and thought -…. Was collecting warriors for a secret mission. 

The news had dropped without fanfare, with formal invites to the city’s guardbugs, and an open invitation to any bug that wanted to prove themselves and help the kingdom. It was a complex affair. It was visible from the invite itself that the King had poured over the idea for a while. Each class of bugs had its own bracket where they would fight. Winged bugs against winged bugs. Armoured bugs against armoured bugs. Scuttlers against scuttlers. 

Nobody knew what the task force was for, exactly. The King had marked down that it was of vital importance and that any participant would be sent away for quite a long time, but there was not much other news. The gossip rings had plenty to say, from the more reasonable to the outright insane. The King, sending out a large party of warriors to find himself a mate? Proposterous – he could have any bug in the Kingdom kneeling at his feet with a single word!  
No, the talks of an Elite Task force were much more likely. Construction bugs told of a large set of buildings they had been commissioned to build – as quickly as possible, with a lot of room for beds and even stables! No doubt, the bugs chosen to be the elite would receive their own mounts and quarters, and train those secluded buildings for when their King needed them.

If that prospect alone wasn’t already titillating enough, the King had included an estimate for the monthly salary, which would be paid out even if a bug decided not to keep the job after learning what their task would entail. It was more than what a middle-class bug earned in a year. Truly, the King was a generous, good King. 

-

Quincy trembled with pride as much as exertion. Out of everyone, he was the last one standing in the arena. His hand was clenched so hard around his Nail that he could feel the metal dig grooves into his carapace, and his left leg had been cracked the wrong way, but he was still standing. The other bugs that had fought in this final match were lying prone on the ground around him, their own nails lost or too heavy for them to lift. Some of them were so still that he couldn’t tell if they were still alive, and he didn’t look closer to see if they were.  
There were no cheers, there was no adoring crowd – only the King, sitting at the edge of the arena and looking down at him with an impassive look. Quincy bowed as deep as his body allowed him. 

When the King spoke next, he was standing right in front of Quincy. “Out of a hundred bugs, you have proven the strongest. Through five elimination pools, you have stood your ground. I will admit that it brings me great pleasure to know that it was one of my city guard sentries that stood up to the task.” 

Smiling hurt, but Quincy could not keep the joy off his face. “Thank you, My King.” He said, and he leaned on his nail so he could deepen his bow. 

“Follow me. I’ll show you to your new residence.” 

Quincy’s limbs wanted nothing more than to collapse and rest, but he pushed through and stumbled after the King. He had fought too hard to give up now. The King waited for him to catch up, his regal face angled towards the banners that had been hung to pay homage to him.  
A royal sigil glowed with power as the King approached it, and a hidden tunnel opened itself. The King stepped through with no hesitation or pause, and Quincy followed his example. 

“Do you have anyone special in your life, Quincy?” The King asked, out of the blue. 

Quincy startled. “I’m sorry, my King, what do you mean?”

“Do you have a family? A bug to come home to?”

“No, my King.” He replied. “A-and even if I found someone like that, my service to you would come first. You’ve given me my mind and personality – a gift I’m still thankful for every day.”

Was he gushing? Most likely yes, but Quincy had never been one to keep a stoic silence, and there was too much adrenalin-fuelled excitement coursing underneath his carapace. The King took a turn to the left, leading into a section of the arena that looked like it was meant to house creatures for fighting. Some of them held belflies and other small creatures that hadn’t ascended with the King’s arrival. 

“Hmm.” The King didn’t reply, and led him further into the caging complex.

Quincy hadn’t thought of creating a family since ascending, not once. It was almost funny in an unpleasant way – his life as a mindless animal had revolved around breeding with as many females as he could. Self-consciously, he rubbed the horns on top of his head. They were intended to fence off competitors, and Quincy knew he had used them frequently before his ascension.  
There was no telling which grubs were ones he had sired – before the ascension his species of bug had not bothered to raise their own grubs, instead choosing to let the little ones fend for themselves until they either died or prospered. Most died. 

He shook himself out of his guilty and shameful past, and instead looked upon the King as the grand bug led him deeper into the building until the cages were replaced by doors and storage chambers. With the help of the King, no more grubs would have to go hungry. None would be without love and support, or without a caring family to help them.  
Maybe once he grew too stiff and old to run patrols, he would make a family with one of the other sentries. Hopefully being old would also lower the chances of getting ten grubs at once – even as a young bug he wouldn’t be able to give them the care and love that they would need! 

“This is where you will be staying for the foreseeable future.” The King said. 

Without Quincy noticing, they had exited the tunnels. A large and high hallway stretched out in front of them, with countless unmarked doors concealing what had to be the quarters of the King’s elite group. The lower doors were large – undoubtedly for the biggest bugs. Up high, those ones were for the winged group. The middle ones had platforms that one could reach with a good leap – and Quincy was proven right in his assumption that that was where he would live when the King led him to one of the doors. 

“I will be supervising the other trials held today. I will return later with the other winners to further explain what your task will be. There will be refreshments and bandages under the benches.”

“Of course, My King.” Quincy bowed, and when he looked up, he was in time to see the Pale King’s robes disappear into the tunnel. As soon as he though the King would not hear, he let out a pained groan, stabbing his needle into the ground so he could lean on the handle. With a tremble still in his knees, he opened the door, and shuffled through.

The room was reminiscent of a pen for worker bugs, the ones too large to live in the city, or the ones too connected with their grouping instincts. There was a dividing wall of glass in the middle of the room, with some iron bars fortifying it, and a door with a handle on one side leading into it. In the pen there was a trough of water, and a basket filled with a variety of flawed produce, from bits of fruit to dried bits of protein. A large ball of comfortable fluff and fibres was sitting near the corner of the room – the perfect material to create a nest with.  
Quincy felt excitement bubble even higher in his chest. The rumours of mounted knights had been true! Was this where they would tame and bond with their beast? He hobbled over to the glass and peered into the room, looking for the creature that would soon belong to him, but there was nothing to be seen. Perhaps they still had to arrive?

Carefully, so as not to aggravate the cracked carapace on his leg, Quincy hobbled to one of the benches and sat down. Before the King’s arrival, such a crack would have made his life more difficult, but Quincy knew how to treat the wound to let it heal right. 

 

-

The door opened once more, and Quincy looked over. Five winged sentries were standing behind the king, all of them looking just as battleworn as Quincy himself. They stared at one other as the King urged the winged sentries inside, and sealed the door behind them.  
“Wings? But-” The King looked at him, and Quincy snapped his mouth shut. Who was he to question the King? Still, he couldn’t help but feel confused – he had expected there to be other grounded bugs like him. He knew these women well – they were the same species as himself, but why would the King want to pair them all together in one group?

“I will explain in a moment.” The King said, stepping forward to open the door that led into the animal pen. “Everyone, please enter through here.”

 

“In here. All of you.” The King said. He had opened the door to the pen, and Teeko hurried through – eager to win the King’s favour with her obedience. Quincy followed her, still glancing around the pen for whatever animal lived there. The door closed behind them, and the King stood at the glass wall that separated them. Quincy waited for orders, or more information, but the King kept his silence. 

Quincy wondered if he dared to ask, or if it would be better to assume what he had to do. Would the King expect him to train the women? What a ridiculous thought. Then, were they battling to see which one of them could lead the elite group that their King was building?  
The silence stretched, and Quincy felt the full effects of his battle starting to weigh on his mind. He felt slow and unwieldy, like he had indulged in too many cups of fermented nectar, and was there … a pulling sensation? Or was that just his imagination? 

He looked over at the King. “Mahhjestee…?” He said. Oh, what happened to his voice?  
“… Wha’s…” One of the others said. She sounded drunk.  
“Wha happann?” Another one said.  
“Nuoo!” Teeko suddenly cried, startling Quincy out of his… had he been about to fall asleep? “Yorr Majstee, please, pleee don’ do is!” 

She lurched her way over to the glass, bashing her fists against the wall. Behind the glass was a white bug – he looked important and bright … Oh yes. His Majesty… The King – he had to know what was wrong. Smart Teeko. Teeko knew to ask King. She was a good woman. 

“Kiihnn haalp.” He chirped at the King, trying to join Teeko in her quest. “Sumin wrronn…”

He reached out to where the King’s influence was in his head, where he had found his name and his thoughts and his words. With King so close, Quincy did not need words. King would help. Quincy confused. Teeko scared. Females scared. King would help-

But instead of the comforting support of his deity, Quincy found nothing but crumbling foundations. Cracks through which his words and thoughts and _personality_ were fading like rain on hot sand. The King was retracting his gift. Pure animal panic shot through him, and he cried out alongside of Teeko. It became a screech – a warning chirrup that was nowhere near the sound of his voice.  
Words, he had to find the words, where were his words? Quincy struggled to keep a hold of his knowledge, the gift that the king had given to him, but it all sank further and further. There was a scent of food in the air and of a fertile female, but he had to -….

He was scratching at the glass now too, together with the others. The white bug was pulling at his head, pulling at his thoughts! Stop stop stop! Please stop!

_… Since my arrival, bugs have been dying faster than there are eggs being laid._ The King’s voice echoed, as if he wasn’t speaking with his voice, but with his mind. “The bugs that do lay eggs struggle to keep them alive, as my gift urges them to prioritise me above their own brood.” Quincy could understand him, every word and its meaning flickered into his head as it was spoken, before it was being sucked right back out of him through the cracks in his mind. 

“Kiiinnn-ng, would carree ehggs! Would!” One of the females cried. “Doo anneething for youu. Pleese- pleese!”

It hurt, all of it hurt, and it was because of the white bug. Why was he trying to get to the white bug? The white bug was hurting him and Quincy’s attempts to make him stop weren’t working. Ergo, he had to retreat, before the white bug killed him, and ate him. He stopped scratching and retreated, keeping his horns between himself and the threat.  
The females at the wall chirped and clicked ‘I surrender!’ and ‘Danger here!’, but Quincy knew that wasn’t quite what they were saying. He was missing a vital part of their conversation, but what? His head ached, and he rubbed his horns against the wall to ease the pain. 

One female blurted weird noises, mingled with clicks of ‘help!’ and ‘danger!’. She was attacking the painful white bug, and she smelled fertile. It was distracting – Quincy wanted to mount her as much as he wanted to stay away from the dangerous white thing. He chirped with aggravation. 

_My gift elevates bugs from their most basic urges. Even the most willing of you would grow bored, and would require mental stimulation or compensation to complete your task. You would demand equal treatment, even for those that were born broken or weak. Wasted time, wasted energy, wasted Geo._  
Another moment of clarity, this time long enough for Quincy to fully grasp the scope of what the King was talking about. A cold fear gripped his heart, his shell pressing so close to his body that it was starting to hurt. His King would keep him as a breeder animal, a bull to fertilise the women, and then the children would be kept as mindless grubs until their bodies matured enough to be of use to him. 

He cried out in objection, clinging to the withdrawing presence in his mind and begging it to listen. He would do anything! He would be loyal, he would give his life, he would debase himself for the King in whatever ways he desired, but not without his mind – but he couldn’t go without his mind, without his thoughts!  
_Like this, every new bug will understand the full scope of my gift. Like this, weakness in body and mind and be quelled without moral quandary. Like this, you will serve your King. Let’s not dawdle any longer._

Quincy wanted to beg, wanted to fight, wanted to know if he would ever get his mind back - but his understanding faded before he could find and shape the words. The females chirped and clicked, scrabbling angrily at the air between them and the white bug. Quincy didn’t understand why – the white bug was small, not a threat. A moment later, most of the females seemed to realise this too, and they spread around the room. Some of them headed for the water, others for the food. One of them remained by the white bug, grasping at his robe with her claws. She smelled fertile.  
Quincy headed towards her, unable to grasp why, but knowing for certain that it had to happen quickly before another male would come to take her away from him. 

The female struggled against his attempts to mount her, battering him with her wings and trying to kick him off. She was screaming, and still pawing at the white bug, but Quincy cared nothing for what her choice in a mate would be – if the white bug wanted to mate her, he would have to fight Quincy first.  
The white bug stepped back, and the female finally let go of him – deciding to put her effort into tossing Quincy off instead. It was common. Quincy had bred females before, and they were always wriggly.  
He took a good hold on the base of her wings, and began the task of finding her opening before she could toss him off. It didn’t take long before the female started to slump, and once she stopped wriggling it was easy to fertilise her. Her carapace and wings scraped against his abdomen as he jerked back and forth to stimulate himself, and they flicked irritably as he handled them a little too roughtly. 

The female was still making odd noises, mixed together with garbled warnings of a predator. Looking up to see for himself, he just found the female staring at white bug as it watched impassively. Was it a threat in the eyes of the female?...  
Quincy dragged the female back a little, and made sure to brandish his horns at the white bug. It didn’t interfere with Quincy, not even when release clouded his mind and made him and his female vulnerable. 

With the female properly fertilised he pulled out and headed towards the scent of water and food, where the other females were already pushing each other around for the best access to the dish. They were ready to be fertilised as well, but obviously not in the mood – the moment he got near enough for a pounce, they flew up to a perch on the wall, food in hand. Quincy would get another chance later. He sat down and ate. 

-

Zazt'vha was no stranger to deception or organization. It was something he had always been good at, and something that had allowed him to get as far in life as he had. 

Still, his plan to create a breeding ground for useful bugs had pushed the limits of what he could comfortably handle. The hassle of providing enough motivation for bugs to prove themselves worthy of spawning the next generation, without telling them that that was what he had planned for them. Trying to expand the breeding pens and cages in a manner that would suit his needs, without clueing in the construction bugs. Looking for new caretaker bugs that could take on the task of feeding the breeders and removing the grubs without saying a word to the outside world… Not to mention that he had severely underestimated just how much energy it cost to retract his gift from an unwilling mind.  
The shard of power he’d left imbedded in each of them was like a weed that grew deep roots, and failure to take it out completely would just let it grow back. There was no way to just yank it back without irrevocably damaging the bug’s brain beyond functioning, and so Zazt'vha was forced to slowly peel their mind away from them as they begged for him to stop from behind thick glass walls. 

It made the process of replacing the breeders one of his least favorite duties. 

Zazt'vha did his best to ignore the sentry that was following him down the hallway. This bug, much like the previous champions, was radiating excitement and pride at having won the championships. Zazt'vha said nothing, and simply led him to the pen where the sentries were bred. There was no reason to continue with the whole farce – the new champion was already trapped. The only exit out of this place was through the hallway that only opened to the touch of his magic.  
Still, he hesitated at the doorway. He rubbed the space between his eyes, and listened to the basic chirps that sounded from behind the doors. Still, it was worth it. 

Having complete control over which species of bug would inhabit his land and what kind of education they received was worth the occasional migraine. And maybe, if given enough time, the inhabitants of Hallownest would begin to breed properly once more. 

Zazt'vha walked through the door and prepared for the music, his newest breeder trailing obliviously behind him. 

-

A rival had entered Quincy’s territory. He had been lounging near the food, dozing away until he was hungry enough to eat again, when he saw them – a rival male. 

There was a white bug too, but it was not a threat – not important next to a _rival_! Quincy had not seen a rival for as long as he could remember, but his body remembered what to do. There was only one thing that a rival could be after – his food and his females! Quincy buzzed a warning, and crouched low in a preparation to lunge, making sure to let the light catch on his horn.  
The other male didn’t click, or chirrup. Didn’t lower his horns to challenge him, or back off in a reply to Quincy’s warning. He was making odd little sounds, and twitching in place like he had never been in a fight for the right to breed. Quincy prepared to chase him off, kill him if necessary, but before he could charge, the white bug bit him. A sharp pain – right between the shell on his neck and his back – a bite that pierced more than it crushed. 

Quincy screamed and trashed - the females all scattering into the air at the sound of his warning, and watched from their perches on the wall – not at all interested in getting caught in the crossfire.

The white bug didn’t let go, and didn’t react to his furious attempts to scare it off. He hissed and clicked – but strength left his body quickly. The floor under him was warm and wet, and the other male was yelling something. He was trying to scare off the white bug too, remove the danger from the nest and win favour from the females no doubt, but it wasn’t working. The white bug was making noises now too – and the rival male was starting to sound scared instead of angry.  
Quincy was scared too – the white bug was still holding onto him with its long shining tooth, and it was getting harder to breathe and move. The other male was getting louder – anger and fear mingling in the way he shifted his carapace - and he charged the white bug, finally attacking it. 

Quincy felt a passing ripple of unease as the other bug fell to his knees mid-charge, grabbing at his head with a yelp. There was a flash of recollection in Quincy – a split second of horror – and then the white bug pulled his tooth out of Quincy’s carapace. A large wave of more sticky warm fluid spilled out of him, and black spots invaded his vision as he tried stab at the horrible white intruder. The females still watched, crowding protectively around each other.  
Quincy couldn’t move anymore. The other male wasn’t wounded, but he was still grasping at his head, making noises at the white bug, and clicking in a scared, submissive tone. 

‘I surrender. Fight over. I surrender. I surrender.’

The white bug grabbed Quincy’s leg, and Quincy let out a wet cough of pain as his broken carapace scraped across the stone floor. By the time the White King had closed the door of the pen behind him, Quincy didn’t see anything anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Incredibly indulgent fic. 
> 
> This all spawned from my love for the Husk Sentry and Winged Sentry. I adored that they were clearly a species of bug with sexual dimorphism. The females grow wings, and the males do not. The females have one horn, the males have one big one and one small one. I just HAD to write a fic about that, and somehow that fic became this. Hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> If there is something I forgot to tag, please let me know!


End file.
